


amplexus

by TomBowline



Series: by invitation [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (clattering around the crozier/jopson/little kitchen) i have to do everything myself in this house, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Established Crozier/Jopson, M/M, Multi, POV Lt Edward Little, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Shame Edward Little Power Hour, Submissive Edward Little, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomBowline/pseuds/TomBowline
Summary: Edward receives an invitation he cannot refuse.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little
Series: by invitation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973041
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	amplexus

**Author's Note:**

> Title is the perfect passive participle form of the Latin verb amplector, meaning "entwined", "embraced", or "cherished". Once again, I suppose it should be plural, but...artistic license.

_Of course there is no expectation. But if you should be agreeable..._

The words swirled around Edward’s head in a relentless gale, driving him to distraction. All day he had been a bit absent from the world for thinking of them, and he was sat now in his cabin staring at the pages of a book without absorbing one word. It was a bit much to take in all at once: first what he had heard - the captain’s low growl, his words scarcely mistakable through the thin door, and Jopson’s breathy whisper - then what he had seen - Crozier sitting red-faced on his bunk, Jopson looking perfectly proper save for those fetching spots of color high on his cheeks and the full redness of his lips - and finally, what he had been told. They had both been there, in the Great Cabin: the captain seated straight-backed at the table, Jopson standing at his shoulder. He had told them in haste that he would not tell, that he saw the delicacy of their situation - but his oratory was interrupted by Jopson’s rounding the table and dropping down easily in the seat next to Crozier’s. “As appreciated as your forbearance is,” the captain began, and Jopson picked up the thread deftly to finish: “That is not what we are here to discuss.”

The idea brought trepidation and excitement to Edward in equal measure. Even before he had truly known Captain Crozier he had wanted to please him; there was a solidity there, a physical magnetism and a blunt intellectual prowess about him that commanded respect and loyalty almost supernaturally. As the voyage had dragged on, as their situation had deteriorated and as he had taken the measure of the man more closely, that loyalty had gotten hopelessly snarled in frustration and disappointment, but it had never taken leave of Edward’s heart. And now, after he had watched from afar as Crozier pulled himself up claw by bloody claw from a pit deep and foul, after he had observed the captain marshalling the men back to a sense of purpose in the face of disasters both past and imminent, he found the old respect - the old _longing_ \- roaring back up in full force within him. He saw in Crozier a man he would be proud to follow, proud to do good by. A man he would be proud to have want him.

And as for Jopson—

As for Jopson.

The captain’s steward had been front and center in Edward’s vision from the first day he boarded Terror. He had gotten turned around looking for the purser, and there Jopson had been, stepping lightly down the companionway with a crate holding a china dinner-service on his hip and a ring of keys in his hand. He had known the answer to Edward’s question without even pausing to think.

Over the months and years that followed, Edward had been drawn to Jopson’s handsome face, his capable manner, the unexpected moments of sharp wit he had shown to Edward. He came to appreciate Jopson’s keen and politic intelligence and to regard his opinion almost as that of another officer: he could not pose a question to the man in the wardroom, of course, but he watched his fine features and his measured actions for any indication of the right path. In the depths of Crozier’s drunkenness, indeed, it was only Jopson’s clear and immovable regard for their captain that kept Edward from losing all his own faith in the man. And while Crozier was abed, much as it pained him to heap more on Jopson’s shoulders, he would look to the steward for guidance in such duties of an acting captain as Edward was inexperienced in.

As early as their second winter he knew he was lost for the man, and cursed himself for it. He was never under any delusion that his affection might be returned.

And now.

He did not do these sorts of things. He had never so much as tossed one off with a fellow mid. He found his pleasure on land, for his safety, and not often, for his sanity. And always with a stranger. Emotion had never come into it - had never had a chance to. Men like him could not court in society; only very lucky ones ever had a chance to court at all.

There was some worry about the effect it would have on him, having this with two people he cared so very much for. He did not wish relations to become strained, least of all when they were about to set out on a march that would take every ounce of unity they could summon up. And yet— well, to be plain, Edward was lonely. It had been so long since anyone had but touched his bare skin, much less held him with any warmth - and he was fatally, burningly curious about how it would be to lie with the both of them. He could not pass it up.

With an air of purpose that was affected as much for his own comfort as anything else, he set down his book and swept from his cabin to find the captain.

•••

He ran into Jopson coming out of the Great Cabin quite by chance, and was reminded of the one measure he felt he must take before agreeing. He was leery of causing offense in the asking, but it was too important to leave by.

“Ah, Jopson!” Edward spoke in a low voice, not wanting to be overheard by the captain. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, sir.” Jopson followed Edward’s lead as he tipped his head towards his own cabin, barely three steps from the door to the Great Cabin. When they had slipped in and shut the door behind, Edward turned and addressed the steward.

“I am sorry if my asking offends you, but I must ask. Be assured that I do not consider you weak or the captain cruel, it is— I simply must be certain.”

Before he could even get to the point of it, Jopson was smiling and shaking his head.

“Shall I tell you about the first time the captain and I were together?” The words were so hushed Edward had to lean in to catch them - walls have ears on a ship - but the smile that spoke them was wide and mischievous. Edward could only nod.

“It was back in the Antarctic. I had observed his fondness for me, and I knew him well enough by then to know he’d never do a thing about it. It was while I was readying him for bed one night, I began to let my touches linger. I spread my hand over his chest to undo his buttons—” Jopson reached out then, to do the same to Edward. His hand was a firm and steady press, barely felt beneath Edward’s layers yet still enough to make his heart pound. “Brushed over his neck to loosen his cravat—” His fingers, chilled and shocking against Edward’s heated skin, reached under the high collar nimbly to stroke his throat. “Combed his hair into place with my fingers.” He had an arm fairly slung over Edward’s shoulders by now, tangling his hand in the hair that was grown overlong at the nape of his neck. Edward’s eyes unfocused trying to keep track of his lovely face. Close, now, enough to feel Jopson’s breath on his lips. He closed his eyes—

And Jopson pulled away, gently but inexorably. Edward barely had a chance to blink his eyes open and look reproachful before he felt a hand rove purposefully over the line of his prick in his trousers. He gasped, twitching into it involuntarily.

“By that time he was wonderfully hard,” Jopson whispered, continuing to stroke Edward illustratively as he filled under the steward’s practiced hand. “It was such a thrill to see him thus. All by my doing.”

Edward bit back a groan. This was proof enough and more that there was no coercion here. If he did not do something soon to master himself, he had very little confidence in his ability to do anything at all. As it was he barely managed to gather himself enough to speak. “Where— Where is the captain?”

Jopson smiled. “Waiting for us, I should think.”

•••

Edward was eminently thankful that the walk between his berth and the Great Cabin was a short one. Now that they had begun he burned to continue, was irrationally certain he would somehow perish without Jopson’s touch. Besides that he did not fancy having to walk between decks with a stiff prick for any Jack Tar to see.

They opened the door to see Captain Crozier sat at the table, fiddling with a pair of snow-goggles that he quickly set aside upon marking their entrance. He tossed Jopson a quick, secretive smile before turning to regard his first lieutenant. “Edward!” He sounded pleased. “Do come in. I take it you’ve made a decision?”

Edward nodded. “Ah— Yes. I want to. I— Yes. Please.”

“Wonderful.” Crozier smiled, projecting approval. Already Edward wanted more, wanted to drink it in. “Kiss him, Thomas.”

 _Oh, yes, please,_ Edward thought, and then Jopson was pressing his lips to Edward’s own and he left off thinking. All was Jopson; Jopson’s lips inordinately soft, Jopson’s hands gentle and firm at once on his waist, Jopson’s thigh slipping sure between his legs. Which reminded him—

Edward parted from him, tried to gasp his breath back. “Tell me what you would have of me,” he entreated, barely audible. He had to know what he was about; didn’t want to cross some unspoken line. “I want to please you both.”

They seemed to hear well enough for Crozier groaned softly from his seat at the table, and Jopson smiled at him as if he’d said just the right thing.

“Please fuck me, then, sir,” Jopson replied, in the same pleasant even tone as he used in company. He levered himself up onto the table as he said it, pulling gently at Edward’s sleeves to bid him follow. His legs came up to cross over Edward’s back at the ankles, bracketing him in a clutch of demanding warmth.

Edward felt dizzy. He looked to Crozier; received a nod and a small smile. As if in a dream he brought his hands to Jopson’s hips to steady himself, rubbing up under the red wool to the white cotton beneath, and dipped his head to kiss the man again.

Jopson met him halfway, and pulled him in: with his hand pressing Edward’s back, but also with his lips giving subtle suction and his tongue curling about Edward’s. Their hips met, and Edward felt the firm topography of Jopson’s cock where it pulsed against his own, but still the kiss seemed to him the more intimate act.

He stripped off layers in fits and starts between kisses; he had begun to be overwarm, a sort of inconvenient miracle, and so shucked coat and jumper onto an empty chair. Before him Jopson was endeavoring to do the same. He got through the opening of his shirt - revealing a fine embroidery of dark hair, an expanse of pale skin, two peaked nipples that Edward longed to suck and nip at the moment he saw them - before he was stymied by Edward’s hands atop his on his trouser-flies.

“Let me?” Edward wanted to unwrap Jopson for himself, wanted to take this final step in parting the curtains of stewardship to reveal the man beneath. Jopson nodded.

Edward attempted to draw down trousers, woolens, and smalls in one pass, such was his impatience - but the forces of physics were against him. Face burning, he tried again with more success: trousers first, which he folded as best he could, feeling Jopson observe him rather as he felt it when a shopkeeper was watching him guess at where to replace an item on a shelf; long underwear next, pulled down to reveal Jopson’s finely-turned legs, the soft skin of his thighs and the dark hair that would feel wonderful against Edward’s bare back; finally his smallclothes, which affected the most dramatic transformation. Where before had been Jopson, a man who still seemed vaguely unattainable despite their present entanglement, now there was Thomas, whose mouth was open and panting, whose cheeks were beginning to flush, whose prick was red and hard and beautiful under Edward’s gaze and for Edward’s touch.

And what could Edward do but touch? Certainly he could not speak; for the life of him he could not summon anything like fitting words for this encounter, and besides he was petrified to break whatever spell they were all under. But this he could give them: his hand on Thomas’ prick, his lips on Thomas’ jaw, his fingers feeling down the soft skin beneath Thomas’ balls to his hole. Which was— Edward gasped.

“Oh, you’ll not need grease,” Crozier piped up, as if he had merely forgot to mention it. Indeed, Edward’s finger slipped into the unbelievable soft heat of Thomas with ease. He thought, as he plunged two fingers in with scarcely more resistance, of the fingers that must have been here not long before - Crozier’s strong and sturdy hand, well learned in Thomas’ pleasure, opening him for Edward’s prick. The jealousy Edward expected at such a thought did not come; in its place, he felt a lust almost overpowering. His blood, he was certain, had left his brain entirely to fill his cock to unbearable heaviness. He sought relief on the soft inside of Thomas’ thigh, rutting mindlessly as he mapped his channel with three fingers, now, testing, stretching.

Crozier had got up, at some point, and he stood at Edward’s side to watch the place where his lieutenant’s fingers disappeared into his steward’s arsehole. Observing Edward’s work with his more experienced eye. And then suddenly doing more than observing; he slotted one finger in beside Edward’s, nestled just so. It was warm, dry, callused in the familiar pattern of a sailor. Such a small touch, yet Edward felt it with such gravity - it was the first they had shared all evening.

Crozier removed his finger with a pleased grunt. “He’s ready,” he informed Edward, who was only too ready himself by this point. As Edward brought out his prick Crozier turned to Thomas, leaning against the table to be at eye level with him. He put one hand on the steward’s face to guide it close to his own as he kissed him.

Edward’s view of the kiss was partially obscured, and to say the truth he was quite distracted by the open slide of Thomas’ hole against his prickhead, but what he could make out - the slackening of Thomas’ jaw, the little groan he made, the way Crozier’s hand found one of his nipples and played over it attentively - was all quite tender. He felt some twinge of envy then, some impression of being on the outside of an important matter or left out of a riotous joke. But even so it was mostly eclipsed by a sense of shared pleasure - how right it was, that Thomas should be kissed as he was fucked, that he should enjoy the attentions of two lovers at once. How much it suited him to be seen to, for all his own competence at service.

Edward was fully seated inside Thomas (and having to exercise mind over matter very stringently to keep from embarrassing himself) when Crozier pulled away. One of his hands - the same one he had felt against his own, Edward thought - found its sure way down to the place where they were joined, traced around Thomas’ rim, stroked at Edward’s balls and base. “Look how well you’re taking him,” he rumbled with his lips pressed to the side of Thomas’ head, nosing in his hair quite to the point of dishevelment. “Great fat yard of his, he’ll fuck you well indeed.” Eyes up, now, flicking to Edward, gently goading him to action. “Won’t you, Edward.”

Edward could only nod; words, he felt, were beyond him now. Crozier smiled at him again, _You’ve done well._ “Good lad. Go on, then.”

Edward felt more animal than man as he thrust into the silken heat of Thomas’ arse - a horse to be run, to be spurred, Thomas’ bare feet digging into his back by the ankles (and yes, oh, the scratch of that lovely dark hair on his calves as his legs slipped up the back of Edward’s shirt), Francis’ hand burning into the small of his back like a brand, _Yours, I am yours, I am for both of you._ He felt wild, breathing heavy, nosing into Thomas’ throat. Seeking Crozier’s lips at Thomas’ other side, anything to ground him, anything to show him he was doing well. And Crozier did, in spades: in teeth biting his lip and lips sucking his tongue, in the hand that swept up to pull at his nape, in all the commanding particulars of the kiss that Edward had been burning for.

“Oh,” Crozier sighed when they finally parted. Thomas was gasping and whining now, little bitten-off groans just audible over the slick sound of their coupling. “Listen to him. You’re working him so nicely, Edward. Such a good strong lad, so good for us, hmm?”

Thomas was looking well fucked indeed now, color high in his cheeks and hair coming down across his forehead in dark unruly strands. Edward drew almost completely out of him and bent to kiss and lick over the sweat on his chest, feeling the contours of sternum and nipple, then thrust back in sharply. He must have struck the seat of Thomas’ pleasure, must have situated himself perfectly to keep striking it, for in three more shallow thrusts he felt Thomas shake and clench - knees trembling locked around his flanks, hips twitching into Crozier’s hand, long lashes fluttering over large light eyes - and come apart beneath him.

As Edward watched the arc of seed that spurted from Thomas’ lovely prick to stain his belly and coat Crozier’s hand, as he felt the maw of Thomas’ hole tighten around him, as he heard the quiet sighs and groans Thomas was making and saw Crozier lick back into his mouth to swallow them up - he felt a sudden shift in the tenor of his pleasure, and knew that he was on the brink of his own crisis. With a final driving thrust into Thomas he rushed up gleefully to meet it and felt that shivering radiation of orgasm engulf his body and his mind alike. _Thank you,_ he told Thomas in strokes over his thighs and nudging wet kisses to his neck, _Thank you, thank you._

At length, Thomas unlaced his legs from about Edward’s back and let him pull out amid such a thick rush of seed that it made Edward vaguely embarrassed. Crozier felt differently, if the low groan he gave was anything to go by. “He _has_ filled you up,” he murmured almost conversationally, swiping two fingers into the mess around Thomas’ hole and feeding them to Thomas’ eager mouth. He stroked over his own erection as he did so, pulled himself out and began to pump almost absently with his gaze trained on the lap and hollow of Thomas’ mouth around his digits. Unfair to himself, Edward thought, that he should pay such a tool so little attention. It was fat as any he’d seen, with a head ruddy and leaking slick from between Crozier’s fingers. It was the kind of prick, and Crozier the kind of man, that he would love to bring off with his mouth.

He reached a hand to cover Crozier’s, and folded somewhat awkwardly onto his knees. Amid Thomas’ pleased intake of breath he had eyes and ears only for his captain, whose hand had stilled on his cock, whose gaze was a pleasant weight on Edward’s face. “Sir— may I…?” He lost his nerve to name the act, simply made his mouth open and slack.

Crozier huffed an incredulous breath and brought his hand up to stroke in Edward’s hair, grounding, reassuring. “Of course, Edward.”

He felt a kind of reverence flood him as he took Crozier’s prick in his mouth. He loved doing this, and it had been far too long since he’d gotten to. Most of the men he attracted were interested in his heft, his prick; they had no thought to his receiving, and Edward did not trust them enough to offer. The fact it was his captain’s cock he was sucking only made it better - Crozier had seen this in him, he and Thomas both had, and they had not turned away but welcomed him to it. He felt blessedly blank, a creature of sense rather than thought: the weight of this proud prick on his tongue, the salty spill of seed onto his palate, the damp smell of skin and the brush of hair when he got his nose snug against Crozier’s groin. _You know me now,_ Edward thought. The stretch and burn at the corners of his mouth, the ache in his jaw, the tears leaking from his eyes - they were badges, testaments to what Edward was giving. Crozier’s hand in his hair, petting and tugging, was the sweetest of praise.

“Christ, he does take cock prettily, does he not, Thomas?” Edward heard a sigh and a shift from atop the table, and suddenly there were two hands in his hair - one broad and rough, one softer and nimble. He could not help but groan as he leant his head back to rub into those hands, tongue working about the prickhead in his mouth.

“Oh, yes.” Here was Thomas’ sweet voice again, making harmony with the lovely choked noises that slipped from Crozier’s mouth. “Beautiful like this, aren’t you. That’s right, he loves it when you moan like that.”

“Next time,” Crozier whispered, hooded eyes fluttering down to watch Edward work, “you should let Thomas fuck you. Would you like that, Edward?”

Edward could only groan and roll his head into Crozier’s clutching hand in reply. “He’s good,” the captain continued, “so good, Edward, he’s good at everything. Good with his hands—” Thomas punctuated Crozier’s words with another tug, then stroked down Edward’s neck and began to pet at his whiskers. “Good with his mouth.” Edward found his face pressed into the captain’s belly as Crozier shifted above him, and he heard the sighing little sound of Thomas being well-kissed. “Good with his pretty prick.”

Edward had begun to grind his arse mindlessly down onto his bootheel from where he was knelt with his weight on knees and toes, wishing it were Thomas’ cock, wishing they had more time and Thomas could finger him open and fuck him, use him - his soft cock and aching knees immaterial, nothing asked of him but to please, nothing considered of him but the holes he could offer. _Keep me here,_ he wanted to plead, _keep me here to use, let this be enough, let me be for you._ In lieu of such an entreaty he took Crozier’s cock into his throat again, let him sheathe himself there in little shallow thrusts. _Let me, let me, let me._

Thomas had taken up stroking his neck again, and now pulled Crozier’s hand to join his own. Edward whined for the loss of that wonderful grip on his hair, but in the next instant Crozier’s twitch and muttered _Christ_ made up for it. “I can—” He sounded awed, and vaguely choked, as he squeezed the side of Edward’s neck gently to feel out the shape of his own prick. “You take it so well, Edward. You’re so good, so good. Fucking hell.”

He was twitching and jolting in Edward’s throat now, leaking bitter seed ahead of his crisis. “He’s close,” Thomas supplied, scratching affectionately at the nape of Edward’s neck to guide him back. Obediently he pulled off to suckle the tip of his captain’s prick, reaching up a hand to do for balls and base what he could not with his mouth. He looked up at Crozier with eyes wide, rubbed his lips over the head, deliberately lapped at the underside with the flat of his tongue. _Please, I want it, please, show me I’m good._ And Crozier obliged - with a ragged exhale and a hand guiding his prick to paint Edward’s tongue and face, with wonder in his eyes as he looked down at Edward beneath him. Edward received the burst of bitterness and the sticky cling of spend with a bright and humming pleasure - for it was a gift, it was a final and certain proof of his captain’s esteem.

Given to his own devices Edward would have been stuck then, uncertain what to do as the mood of the room shifted from aroused to sated. But he was not alone; here was Crozier’s arm held out to help him up, here was Thomas’ hand fishing a handkerchief out of his discarded trousers to wipe his face. Here was Crozier tipping his chin forward to kiss him as Thomas fussed with a basin of water, here was Thomas murmuring, “I hope we shall see you again?” with a small sweet smile ( _Yes, whenever you like, through all the blackness of the day and all the brightness of the night, until this damned ship sinks_ ) as Crozier paused in buttoning Edward’s shirt to stroke over his flank. Here were they, Edward’s captain and his captain’s steward, who would take care of him, who _had_ taken care of him. Who cared _for_ him. Tonight he was not alone.


End file.
